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POLITICAL SONGS 

ON 

OUR WORKINGMEN’S 

WRONGS 


BY CHARLES TRENCH 


IMPERIALISM 
PROTECTIVE TARIFFS 
TRUSTS 

THE NEW DEMOCRACY 
THE GROANS OF COLUMBIA 
GOD’S DESERT AND MAMMON’S DESERT 
OUR WORKINGMEN 

THE CORPORATION BOARDING-HOUSE KEEPER 


Copyright 1899 
BY CHARLES TRENCH 
Boston, Mass. 


















POLITICAL SONGS 


ON 

OUR WORKINGMEN’S 

WRONGS 


BY CHARLES TRENCH 

n 


IMPERIALISM 
PROTECTIVE TARIFFS 
TRUSTS 

THE NEW DEMOCRACY 
THE GROANS OF COLUMBIA 
GOD’S DESERT AND MAMMON’S DESERT 
OUR WORKINGMEN 

THE CORPORATION BOARDING-HOUSE KEEPER 


Copyright 1899 
BY CHARLES TRENCH 
Boston, Mass. 


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'Trench 26 Myrtle St.., Bos 





IMPERIALISM. 



I wish I had a critic’s pen 
To stigmatize those venal men 
Who, safe from danger, launch from far 
The dreadful thunder bolts of war, 

t 

And with a callous unconcern 
Despatch commands to shell and burn 
The homes of people, late our friends, 
For purely profit-making ends. 

Responsive to the cannon’s roar 
Late thriving towns are drenched in gore 
Infirm old men and women feel 
Consuming flames and murdTing steel. 
Their homes destroyed and parents dead, 
Deserted children cry for bread. 

Deep woes, ’tis not in words to tell, 
Announce a savage reign of Hell. 

And what is all this havoc for? 

’Tis nothing but a needless war, 

For grasping Trusts whose harpy hands 
Are reaching out for distant lands, 
Where many products which are known. 
To tropic climes are cheaply grown ; 
Besides, these despots have in view 
Cheap Asiatic labor, too, 

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Our dull officials also try 
To turn aside the public eye, 

And thus divert attention from 
Their infamous misrule at home ; 
This is the way affairs are run, 

My working friends, in Washington 
With millions weekly thrown away, 
Which you will surely have to pay. 

Ye citizens ! behold the shame 
Of this gigantic bunco game. 
Your duty is to stop supplies 

For this unrighteous enterprise,. 
Which has no other end in view 
Than sharking for a wealthy few. 

One chief, by orders, gags the Press,. 
And other tools the Mails repress. 

If thus our rights are trampled on, 
Our freedom soon will all be gone. 
What fouler wrongs upon this earth 
Can call your keen resentment forth? 
Then rally, without loss of time, 

And check this carnival of crime. 


PROTECTIVE TARIFFS. 

Contempt of human rights has been 
A foe to Liberty, 

Involving in all ages men 
In chains and slavery, 

His mental vision must be short, 
Who fails to comprehend the sort 
Of rights Republicans support. 



4 


Beneath their rule our wealth has passed 
Into the hands of few, 

And Tariff laws have tended fast 
Wage earners to subdue 
To needy surfs, with want so rife, 

That labor is a constant strife 
To earn the scantest needs of life. 

Oh ! founder of your system, look 
At this enormus sin; 

But hearts, moored in a narrow nook, 
Can scarcely take it in ; 

And how can Fancy find a name 
To brand thee with eternal shame 
For planning this disgraceful scheme. 

For, travel Earth’s wide region round, 
And vain would be the quest 
To find a land within its bound 
By taxes more oppressed. 

Our tariffs are so well design’d 
To fleece the poor, no fiend could find 
A baser swindle for mankind. 

A shameful, though instructive sight, 
Was that great throng which went 
To Congress, like a vultures flight, 

On spoliation bent; 

And while you framed your Tariff Bill, 
These harpies struggled with a will, 

Like swine around a trough of swill. 


5 


The plea Protectionists employ, 
Resentment to allay, 

Is that by tariffs men enjoy 
A higher rate of pay. 

But, where Protection’s hand is laid, 

As Henry George has truly said, 

The lowest wage is always paid. 

The wily tariff-tinker states 
That industries abroad 
Are strangled by our tariff rates, 

But mentions not a word 
About the paupers who appear 
% From foreign shores, from year to year, 

And keep down labors’ wages here. 

You see my friends upon inspection 
The crafty game that’s played ; 
While corporations have protection, 
Vast crowds our shores invade 
All free of any tax and so, 

Our labor markets overflow, 

And keep the rate of wages low. 

This illustration shows the way 
That Corporations trade : 

Ten dollars I, the other day, 

For woolen blankets paid ; 

Yet six are charged for that same brand 
When shipped to any foreign land. 

’Tis easy now to understand 


6 


Why strikes prevail and riot reigns, 
And millions are oppressed, 

For labor, of its hard-earned gains, 

By Law is dispossessed. 

In all our towns are heard the groans 

C7 

Of workingmen, whose flesh and bones 
Are worn out by rapacious drones. 


TRUSTS. 

We often proudly boast that we 

Have long dispensed with Kings, 

But still we have to bend the knee 
To Trusts, Combines and Rings. 

In every workman’s home and trade, 

'Their hateful webs and traps are laid 
To plunder, beggar and degrade. 

No feudal barons ever swaved 

Their serfs with heavier hand 
Than that which grasping Trusts have laid 
On this tax-ridden land. 

Of all the wrongs mankind have cursed, 
Or foul corruption yet has nursed, 

These leagues for plunder are the worst. 

Blackmail, in ancient times, we know 
Was levied by brute-force, 

But now we workers undergo 
Despoilment that is worse ; 

For Trusts, with boundless pelf supplied, 
Have all our feeble laws defied, 

And on our backs securely ride. 



7 


Self-conscious rogues deserve respect 
Compared to sharpers who 
So many industries have wrecked, 
And honest workman, too. 

Ye voters ! clearly understand, 

A duty waits you, a demand 

To lay on Trusts a heavy hand. 

> 

This question now demands reply, 
Shall men or money rule? 

Shall state affairs be guided by 
A Trust-appointed tool ? 

If so, ’tis easy to forecast 
Disruption and upheaval vast, 
Unparalleled in ages past. 


THE NEW DEMOCRACY. 

It is a truth we can’t deny 
That poverty increases, 

That famished beggars multiply 
And Labor’s pay decreases ; 

The reason’s plain enough to see, 

It is, my working friends, that we 
Are plundered by monopoly. 

Trusts, Syndicates, Combines and Pools 
Have closed to trade our ports, 

And by the use of pelf make tools 
Of Council-halls and Courts, 
■'Corruption’s reached to such a pitch, 
That laws are not permitted which 
'Can touch the pockets of the rich. 



8 


Of all the symptoms of a heart 
Corrupted to the core, 

The surest is the griping art 
Of pilfering the poor. 

Our Congress halls are all beset 
With greedy Trusts, whose eyes are set 
To get the poor within their net. 

Resistance in a legal way 

To fraud and imposition, 

Becomes a higher law today 
Than timorous submission. 

The grin-and-bear-it policy, 

With daring greed and villiany, 

Is base and abject slavery. 

Foul hovels of polluted air 
Is now the toilers lot; 

With crafty grabbers, here and there, 
No refuse he has sot. 

He wears these sailing chains because 
Republicans make venal laws 
For filling never-sated maws. 

No man who casts a vote should blink 
This all-important fact, 

’Tis always how a man can think 
That urges him to act. 

One thinker, with a truth imprest, 

Is worth ten thousand whoTe possessed 
Of only selfish interest. 


9 


Resolve at this momentuous hour, 
If freedom warms your breast, 
To overthrow a venal power 

Which freemen should detest 
To be contented and resigned 
To despots, who oppress mankind, 
Betrays a weak and craven mind. 


THE GROANS OF COLUMBIA. 

We hold in this unrivalled land 
Resources whiclYare vast, 

Where Nature with unsparing hand 
Yields treasures unsurpassed; 

Its climate admirably suits 
The growth of cereals and roots, 

And orchards bend with fairest fruits. 

A richer country there is none 
Upon the face of Earth, 

Nor is there one beneath the sun 

That pours such treasures forth ; 

Its Government formed on a plan 
Adapted to the needs of man, 

In Freedom’s march once led the van. 

But what a change has taken hold 

CD 

Of our beloved land, 

Since fraud-accumulated gold 
Has taken it in hand ! 

Although we claim and boast that we— 
The people—are self-ruled and free, 
Where can be found more tyranny? 



10 


Our working people ask the cause 
Of such a state of things, 

The answer is that grinding laws 

Are made by Trusts and Rings, 

Who, though they hoards on hoards secure, 
By pilfering the toiling poor, 

Yet boldly plot and scheme for more. 


Alarming truths are coming home, 

And thoughtful people see 
That radical reforms must come 
Or frightful anarchy. 

The masses feel the spoilers’ fangs 
And clearly see their freedom hangs 
On rooting out rapacious gangs. 

You must attend, oh, Citizen ! 

To these important matters ; 

No wonder that so many men 

Are clad like tramps in tatters. 

Great Kingdoms torn up branch and roots 
Have often been the bitter fruits 
Of crushing men below the brutes. 

Our dangers every day increase, 

The tide of sin runs deep, 

So hang your fiddles up and cease 
To sing yourselves to sleep. 

Grim omens here and there forbode 
That Retribution’s on the road 
And may at any time explode. 


11 


Your duty is to overthrow 
The Party now in power, 

For that important step is now 
The question of the hour. 
Remember, its dishonest lines 
Run solely with great Trusts, Combines, 
And owners of enormous mines. 


GOD'S DESERT AND MAMMON'S 

DESERT. 

God’s desert blooms with smiling flowers 
Which waft the breath of incense round, 
While blossoms fall in fragrant showers 
And lovely scenes and forms abound; 

All nature seems to bloom and shine 
Beneath a flood of light divine. 

A thousand mirthful songs arise 

From murmuring insect, bee and bird, 

And by the zephyrs’ scented sighs 
The trees to melody are stirred; 

Green slopes, clear rills and waving wood 
Create a blissful solitude. 

The thrush and sweet-toned robin sing 
Their joyous songs among the trees, 

And streams of balmy perfume spring 
From every leaf that courts the breeze ; 
Along the valley’s green expanse 
The plumy ferns with gladness dance. 



V 


12 

Here countless beasts and birds resort 
With food abundant, and are free 
And happy in their work or sport 
As God intended them to be; 

No human sharks are here to rob, 

Or toilers begging for a job. 

But we have reached our journey’s end, 

Have had a glimpse of God’s domains, 

And now will contemplate, my friend 
A wilderness where Mammon reigns. 

A woful change ! Here mortals dwell 
Beneath his foul and baleful spell. 

Yes ! human wrecks in shoals we see, 

Of every boon of life denied ; 

All Mammons’ victims, doomed to be 
Despoiled, debased and brutified ; 

Their frames worn out to barely win 
Enough to keep their souls within. 

Here sloughs of reeking filth you meet, 

From whence foul smells invade your nose, 

In every alley, lane and street 

Bevolting objects fiock like crows, 

While squalid toilers of all ages, 

Contend for less than living wages. 

O o 

Such is the lot of men who feed 

And clothe mankind. While Mammon feasts, 
Their lives are spent in hopeless need, 
Degraded far below the beasts. 

And thus we trace from place to place 
The Tyrant of Columbia’s race. 


13 


OUR WORKING MEN. 

0 Knowledge ! thou directing light, 

Instruct the toiling masses, 

And teach them to maintain their right 

© 

Against oppressive classes ; 

Without thy aid the ballot-box 
Is but a snare, and crafty hoax, 

To keep us under galling yokes. 

Our workmen are the best on Earth, 

And toil the longest hours, 

But yet there is a grievous dearth 
Among these men of ours 
Of comforts, which to them are due, 

By virtue of the work they do 
To swell the pockets of the few. 

While honest pay means happiness 
And cheerful self-respect, 

Scant wages lead to wretchedness, 

Vice, squallor and neglect. 
Remember, oh, ye voters ! these 
Are deadly germs of that disease 
Which ends in woeful tragedies. 

Keen wrongs without a remedy 
Are fortunately few, 

And reason shows the path which we 
At present must pursue. 

When grasping Trusts and Rings abound, 
The sons of Labor should be found 
United on one common ground. 

O 


s 


14 


And, furthermore, don’t fail to see 
That oft-repeated cant 
Of Demagogues, who say you’re free 
While you’re oppressed with want. 
Twist phrases as they may, ’tis plain 
That Freedom is but void and vain 
Which brings not plenty in her train. 

Ye, toilers, look this matter through, 
And if you mean to cope 
With craft and fraud, cease clinging to 
Deceitful straws of hope. 
Republicans will always make 
As many pledges as you’ll take, 

But all of which they mean to break. 

Then organize, Be this command 
Obeyed by every one 
Whose bread is by a toil-worn hand 
From leagued oppression won. 

If ye like sturdy freemen feel, 

Proceed with wisdom-tempered zeal, 
And on Extortion set your heel. 


A CORPORATION BOARDING¬ 
HOUSE KEEPER. 

I’ll now describe a sly old gent, 

Tall, spider-legged and slim, 

In crooked arts to circumvent, 

None get ahead of him. 



15 


His beak is hooked, his face is calm,. 

His eye is cold and keen, 

And, with a basket on his arm, 

At market can be seen. 

A Corporation boarding-house 
He and his consort keep, 

And as they are extremely close 
They buy provisions cheap. 

He wanders round the cellars where 
The poorer dealers keep 
Supplies of meat which taint the air, 
And can be purchased cheap. 

His meat selected to his mind, 

He then will stroll around 
The butter-kegs until he find 

Ths worst that can be found. 

And when he tastes what’s very cheap,. 

He smacks his lips with glee, 

While nose and chin together leap 
And snap in ecstasy. 

In soups, mince-pies and mutton hash 
He makes his boarders pay 
For odds and ends and other trash 
Which butchers throw away. 

Stale beef, half decomposed, he’ll mix. 

With chemicals and spice, 

And with such art his hash can fix 
His boarders think it nice. 



16 


It seems almost a paradox 

How this old gent can take 
The neck of an old working-ox 
And fix it up like steak. 

And thus his shams appear so real 
That few his methods question, 
Although his boarders often feel 
The pains of indigestion. 



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